


One Fine Day

by Tormented_Gale



Category: Tales of the Abyss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 08:46:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3522938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tormented_Gale/pseuds/Tormented_Gale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the first time he's found himself surrounded by beauty, and the last.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Fine Day

He looks up, up, up until he sees the swaying leaves in the breeze, little more than a flutter but beautiful. He likes this weather, the soft way the wind brushes against his cheeks and reddens them, the feeling of peace this place gives him, a peace unlike any other. For a few precious seconds he is safe, and warm, and happy, and he finds his lips curling into a smile at the thought.

Then the hand at his back pushes him forward, and he remembers that his wrists are rubbed raw from the ropes binding him. The enchanted mask over his mouth stops words or artes, whichever would be more harmful, from escaping, as much as the bindings on his ankles stop any attempt at running. He shuffles forward, towards the tree, and his smile does not disappear.

"Sync, also known as Sync the Tempest, God General of the Oracle Knights, strategist to Van Grants, replica, traitor, murderer, you are hereby sentenced to death."

The words are lost on him as another shove forces him to concentrate completely on staying upright. Warm, callused hands press on the back of his neck, not as harshly as he would have expected, but perhaps that is because this executioner is afraid of him. The thought makes his smile widen, and he glances at the figure firmly holding him there.

"I don’t bite," he tries to say, but all that comes out is a breath, and he sighs in annoyance. He instead raises his eyes, faces the man condemning him to death, and watches those eyes and that satisfied line of a mouth that judge him ever so firmly. He does not stop watching, not even as he is moved into position, and he turns away only when the soft leaves of the tree flutter down from where a rope has been tossed over a sturdy branch.

Standing proudly, shoulders back and spine straight, he barely feels the coil of roughness that surrounds his neck and slowly tightens. The hand is back on the nape of his neck, soon replaced by the knot, and a little tug has him automatically going to his tiptoes. He glances around, the surreal feeling enough to throw him off, to confuse him, and for a moment he thinks it is perhaps a dream.

The crowd is full of his old enemies, but he finds it incredibly amusing that several actually look conflicted about the whole situation. It’s hilarious, really. The former Fon Master Guardian standing next to someone he could mistake for a mirror copy of himself, her brown eyes shining with unshed tears, watches him like a hawk, and he wants to tell her he isn’t sorry, that everything he’s done is nothing to apologize for, but his words are blocked, and she looks like she might not accept them.

No one should believe he has a shred of decency in him. It’s not in his nature, a nature carefully constructed and woven with pain, hatred, self-loathing, and pity by a man more insane than this whole damned world. He wonders if that makes him insane too; more than likely, he thinks, and it makes his smirk widen even as he feels the rope tug on his neck again, chafing his skin.

His executioner stands off to the side, and there is no offer of a mask, and Sync wants to point out the lack of decency here too, and oh, aren’t they so alike? But he knows his chance to speak harsh realities is beyond him now. He looks up into the tree’s branches, through the thick foliage, and takes in the sunlight streaming down to greet him.

It’s not a bad day to die.

And as they kick the platform from beneath his feet, and the entire world narrows to the pain that flashes through his body and the audible snap of the rope, he thinks it’s the most beautiful day he has ever seen.


End file.
